The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
by messyhead
Summary: Oscar is in love, but is all as it seems to be? Thanks, as usual, to Neesie-Pie, and also to the Bionic Project members who prompted the idea.
1. Chapter 1

When the phone rang for the third time in an hour, Oscar's eyes rolled upward as though he was seeking aid from a higher power. No doubt some manner of earth shattering crisis would come pouring out of the receiver into his ear, and he just didn't want hear it. He wanted to be left alone - well, not alone, precisely. Let the OSI be flattened by a giant meteor, let there be another Cuban missile crisis, let some disciple of Dr. Franklin's take over the White House with an army of Fembots - just as long as he could be here with this woman, undisturbed, that would suit him fine.

In slightly less than two weeks time his life had been completely transformed and he was still in a state of disbelief. He had thought Jaime and Steve were making another go of it, and he had been enthusiastically - albeit completely artificially - supportive. Then late one evening Jaime had shown up on his doorstep, tearful, dejected, needy, and he had held her as close as a good friend should, and listened as she sadly described her failure with Steve. The spark just wasn't there - and she had finally realized why. And then to his utter amazement, she kissed him deeply and told him that it was him she was in love with, and in an instant the false front he'd been maintaining all these years crashed down, and now he was officially in love - the shouting-from-the-rooftops kind of love - a giddy, gushing, effusive kind of love, and he hardly recognized himself.

It was immediately clear that the concept of actual happiness had been lost to him for years. He fulfilled his ambitions, got a lot of satisfaction from his work, enjoyed the company of friends - but a huge part of his soul had become completely shut off, and now that she had opened it up again he was finally fully alive. Though only Rudy knew about his relationship with Jaime, absolutely everyone else commented on how happy, youthful, and energetic he seemed.

"I should yank that thing out of the wall" he grumbled, leaning over to kiss her quickly before rising from the couch.

"You're getting slack, Goldman." she smiled.

"Hello?" he said tersely.

"Oscar - did I catch you at a bad time?" said a very familiar, very friendly voice. "It's Jaime."

In an instant he froze solid, his eyes fixed on the telephone, every muscle seized.

"Oscar?"

"Well, hello." he said, his voice belonging to someone else, a voice that sounded normal, even friendly. As he spoke his brain and guts spun on a midway ride, the landscape around him blurred, the nausea rising in his stomach. He blinked and swallowed hard.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes, of course. No problem at all. How have you been?" His mind scrambled frantically, trying to find an explanation for this inexplicable situation - trying to find an explanation that he was going to be able to bear.

"Great, thanks." Jaime's voice said. "Did Russ tell you that Steve and I went to Yosemite for a couple of weeks? We just got back today."

"No, he didn't mention that, as a matter of fact." He scratched the back of his head casually.

"Well, there's nothing in my fridge, there's certainly nothing in Steve's fridge, and as there's usually nothing in your fridge, I was wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner."

So who was the fake? Surely it had to be the one on the telephone, trying to lure him out - that must be it.

"Well, that would be nice, but I'm afraid I'm completely swamped." Mechanically, or so it felt, he turned to the woman on the couch and smiled, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, too bad." The voice said, sounding disappointed.

"Raincheck?"

"Of course. Maybe next week sometime?"

"Great." he said.

"Great. I'll call." There was a hesitation. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes of course. Next week then." Oscar replied, leaning down toward the phone.

"Bye!" the other Jaime said, and he replaced the receiver. He looked up to the woman on the couch. She was so beautiful, biting her lower lip and looking at him inquisitively. He was so consumingly, ferociously, painfully in love with her.

"I've got a yen for artichoke hearts." he said. "You in?"

"Sure." she replied. She looked so right sitting there - happy, relaxed, and incredibly inviting. He suppressed the thoughts that were rising in his mind, the feeling of her arms around him, her body against his, her lips on his neck.

"Who was that?"

Oscar walked to the kitchen. "An old Navy buddy of mine. We have dinner together once in a while."he called back.

"Well I'm sure glad you didn't invite him over - three's a crowd..."

"You think I'm nuts?" He reached up to the top shelf and pulled down a small glass jar. Grunting loudly with the effort, he tightened the lid as hard as he could.

"Phew - it's a tough one." he said, pulling a serrated knife from a drawer and quietly nicking the edge of the metal lid with it, leaving a sharp burr. He grunted again, as though he were still trying, and reached into the bottom drawer, pulling out a small silver pistol. He slipped it into his trouser pocket and walked back into the living room, smiling.

"Would you mind, Wondergirl?" he asked, proffering the jar.

When he saw the moment's hesitation in her eyes he knew.

"Sure." she said, taking it from him, and bending to her task. He stood above her, his heart splintering into icy shards with each passing second as she wrestled with the jar, reddening and puffing.

"Ow!" she cried as she lost her grasp.

Quietly Oscar bent forward and took her right hand in his, turning it over to examine the palm.

"Huh." he said coolly, watching the bright red blood pearl over a tiny cut on her middle finger. "You're bleeding."

The woman's eyes lifted slowly to meet his.

"Why don't you introduce yourself?" Oscar said, pulling the pistol from his pocket. "You know all about me, so it seems only fair I should meet you properly." He felt only numbness and was grateful for it, because he knew it wouldn't last. Soon the self recrimination, the sorrow, the loss, the humiliation would bore its way through this cold protective membrane and torture him endlessly. It was all so incredibly clear now. Of course Jaime didn't love him. It was just a pathetic delusion. He had made a catastrophic error - he who was so careful, so guarded - had opened the drawbridge and invited the enemy right in, and that enemy had burned him to the ground.

"Oh, Sugar," the woman said in a horribly familiar southern drawl, "We don't need introductions. You and I are already on a first name basis."

Oscar backed toward the telephone.

"Now are you sure you want to go spoil everything? We could just go on playing let's pretend..."

"Oh, that's a good idea." Oscar replied coldly. "I'll keep some weaselly career criminal in my life so I can pretend she's somebody else."


	2. Chapter 2

"Let me guess," Steve said from the couch, "the old party animal is all tied up."

Jaime set down the phone and looked at him uneasily.

"There was something weird about that call. I think there's something wrong."

"Sure there's something wrong." he replied. "He's sitting there with his calculator and he's just figured out that he's a buck sixty over budget this fiscal."

"No seriously, Steve - I think we need to get over there."

"Jaime," Steve protested, "Are you sure? What if he's …uh …_entertaining_... if you know what I mean?"

"Like a _date_?" Jaime asked with disbelief. "We are talking about Oscar Goldman, you know. Let's go."

Outside Oscar's house, they were confronted by the sight of a woman who looked exactly like Jaime Sommers being firmly escorted by two OSI men to a waiting vehicle.

"No!" breathed Jaime, her eyes widening in horror. _Another one?!_ Imitation might be the sincerest form of flattery, but she had had quite enough of it.

"Oh my God..." added Steve under his breath.

"Sugar Pie!" Lisa greeted her with mock enthusiasm. "What's the matter? Aren't y'all glad to see me?"

"Lisa?! Lisa Galloway?!" Jaime spluttered, "What have you _done_?! I can't believe... " She barely knew where to begin. **"**You...you went through plastic surgery _again_?"

"Well, honey, I had such fun being you I just couldn't resist taking another crack at it, so here I am. Hell, it's the only thing I've ever really been good at. I sure had your number one fan eating out of the palm of my hand - among other places." she said, winking and tilting her head toward the house.

Jaime stared at her in cold, dumb amazement, and slowly turned to meet Steve's gaze. He looked just as she felt - mouth open, eyes wide with shock. "My... my number one fan?" she repeated.

Lisa's eyes ran appreciatively up and down Steve. "Well now, aren't you an eyeful? I bet you two have been havin' a real nice little holiday."

Jaime pursed her lips as she took Steve's arm and turned toward the house. "We'll be talking again soon, Lisa, I can just tell."

"That is unbelievable..." Steve mumbled as they advanced up the sidewalk.

The front door was ajar and as they entered Jaime heard Russ speaking, his tone regretful.

"You could really be hung out to dry on this one, Oscar."

"I am well aware of that Russ." Oscar replied, his voice strained and tense.

"Hello...?" Jaime called tentatively as they rounded the corner into the living room. Oscar was sitting on the couch, slumped forward, his face in his hands.

Hearing her voice, his head jerked up, and the expression on his face was something Jaime would never forget. She could only describe it as horror, mixed with something like a plea, collapsing into utter mortification - all in about two seconds. His eyes flicked to Steve and he quickly rose to his feet and turned his back to them.

The wine glasses on the coffee table and the subdued lighting gave it all away. Jaime's face burned as she realized that Lisa Galloway had been sharing a romantic evening with Oscar. _Your number one fan..._

"I've got to call Rudy." Oscar muttered to Russ, grabbing the telephone receiver.

Jaime was deeply taken aback - having almost witnessed herself in an intimate situation with her boss. How deep was Oscar's involvement? That comment of Lisa's - she couldn't imagine him having a casual relationship - particularly with her. She looked to Steve in disbelief and saw him making a similar calculation, frowning.

As Russ moved toward them, Jaime kept her eyes on Oscar dialing the telephone. Even with his back turned she could tell he was willing them both to leave, willing them to leave him alone. It was devastating.

"What can we do?" she blurted.

Russ shook his head. "We've got to figure out what Lisa knows, and whether she's got buyers for the information. She may have already made some deals. Oscar says he hasn't been actively guarding anything under a level seven against her, so god knows what that means. He's pretty discreet, but he may have left a paper or two lying around, or taken a phone call – I don't know. We're going to have to figure that out right away."

"I'll talk to Lisa." Jaime replied firmly. "I think I can get whatever we need to know out of her. And I believe..." she said, switching into a southern drawl, "I can still do a pretty fair imitation of that accent."

Over Russ's shoulder she saw Oscar brace himself against the wall, and she immediately regretted the impersonation.

"...so she likely can't have surgery for a while -" Oscar's voice rose, desperate and angry, "then get them to dye her head purple or tattoo a skull and crossbones in her forehead - I don't care. I don't want her to be mistaken for Jaime ever again!"

Russ nodded. "We may need you to do your Lisa routine in the next couple of days. For now, would you go down to detention and see if you can get anything out of her? Oscar and I need to spend some time here."

"Of course." Jaime replied.

"I want to talk to him." said Steve, his eyes narrowed.

"Maybe not now, Steve." Jaime said quietly.

"Why not now?"

"Steve..." Jaime squeezed his elbow and looked him hard in the eye.

"Okay, well, let's go then."

They drove to the OSI in silence, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. Jaime found herself experiencing some of that same wretched confusion she had years before when she struggled with amnesia – the sensation that she'd been living a second life, which she had somehow kept secret even from herself. And just as before - she felt a stinging, irrational guilt about it all. The scene in Oscar's house kept playing back in her mind - that look on his face when he saw her - and it made her sense of guilt all the more acute.

In the years she'd known him, she had never had a conversation with Oscar about his love life – or lack thereof. They had discussed her romances ad nauseam, but somehow the subject was off limits when it came to him. He had a way of subtly redirecting conversation away from himself, so that even though she considered him a close friend, there was much Jaime didn't know about him.

She had come to the conclusion that he simply would not or could not open himself up. On several occasions at social events she had seen some woman make an earnest play for his attention, but invariably he graciously and discreetly rejected their advances.

All this made what she had just seen even more painful. Though Jaime had always felt a certain warm chemistry between them, it must have meant much more for Oscar than she had ever guessed. In truth, she was deeply moved to know how he felt about her, and saddened to know that he would now regard his feelings for her as an unforgivable weakness. The horrible irony of it – he must have felt _safe_ with her.

"There sure is a lot of sighing and gnashing of teeth going on over there." Steve said, interrupting her thoughts.

She couldn't quite bring herself to tell him what had been thinking. Instead, she blurted, "This is my fault!"

"Your fault?! How do you figure that?" Steve asked incredulously.

"Oscar wanted to throw the book at her." She paused and shook her head. "And I pleaded her case – said that she was remorseful and deserved a chance. I felt sorry for her. She must have just gotten out on parole - and now look!"

"Well, it wouldn't be a problem if Oscar hadn't gotten all cozy with her. If you want to lay blame, put it there."

True enough, Jaime supposed, but how could Oscar have known? Lisa was incredibly convincing, and apparently fantastically manipulative. She had manipulated Helen into loving her, had manipulated Jaime into feeling sorry for her, and now she had manipulated Oscar - into god knows what.

"I gotta wonder," Steve continued, putting the car into gear as the light turned green, "what did he think he was doing - my so-called friend spending a romantic candlelit evening with my girl? I don't get it."

_So that's where the anger is coming from._ Jaime watched him as he drove, trying to gauge his emotional temperature. Steve was so good at keeping his feelings under wraps it was difficult to tell just how angry he actually was.

"Well, we have to assume that Lisa fed him some story about you and me splitting up..."

"So you and I have a fight and he's there waiting with open arms? Even if we had split up, you just don't do that."

"Oh," Jaime replied, as though suddenly enlightened, "so Oscar isn't allowed to go out with any of your ex-girlfriends? Well no wonder he doesn't have much of a love life. That lets out most of the eligible female population of Washington."

"Very funny." Steve replied coolly. "He's allowed to date anyone he wants except for you."

"Honey, can we just keep our eyes on the ball here? Oscar is in a lot of trouble, and on top of it he's been hurt and totally humiliated. He needs us, and I for one am fond of the man, and I have no intention of letting him hang out to dry."

"But Jaime - you _do_ understand why my old friend Oscar has kind of thrown me for a loop here, don't you?" He seemed to need her reassurance more than anything.

She let out a long breath. "You and me both, Baby. You and me both."


	3. Chapter 3

Rudy didn't knock. He entered the house without announcing himself and strode into the living room.

"Where is he?"

Russ turned from the window, startled.

"He just excused himself a second ago - he went down that way." he said, gesturing down the hall.

Rudy was already moving down the hallway by the time Russ finished the sentence. Pushing the doors of two rooms and finding them empty, he tried the third. It was locked. He stood back and kicked, splintering the door as it flew open.

Oscar was leaning on his desk, holding the small silver pistol in his hand. He and Rudy both froze. Russ arrived behind Rudy, pale and wide eyed.

Looking from one man to the other, Oscar stammered, "I wasn't..."

"Give me that." Rudy said quietly, taking the gun from him. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Wouldn't you rather have a good glass of scotch? I've got a bottle of ten year old single malt at home. And I'm not asking you. I'm telling you."

Oscar looked at his feet and nodded slowly. "Okay."

--

By the time Jaime and Steve arrived at the OSI, Russ had arranged to have Lisa transferred to an interview room. The guard at the door developed a confused and anxious expression as soon as he saw Jaime.

"It's okay. You are seeing double." she said grimly.

"Sweetheart," Steve caught her lightly at the elbow, "do you mind if I watch the interview?"

"No, I was hoping you would. I'd like your perspective - as long as it's not going to be something about throwing Oscar to the lions."

"Of course not." Steve frowned, offended. "Just because I'm mad at him doesn't mean I want to see him go down in flames."

Jaime smiled apologetically, ran her hand down the back of his head as though to smooth away the affront, and turned to the guard.

"See this outfit?" she said, sweeping her hands outward, presenting herself. The guard nodded nervously.

"This is the outfit you let back out again. Capiche?"

"Capiche."

_You're a professional, _she counseled herself as she entered the room, gritting her teeth, _stay cool._

She donned a warm smile and shook her head at her double.

"Well Lisa, you're going to be the end of me." She grinned as though chiding her for a clever practical joke. "I've got to hand it to you. You almost took down the OSI's top dog. I didn't think it could be done."

Lisa was sitting in a chair, hugging her knees to her body, her expression wary. A flicker of pleasure registered in her eyes. There was no single person in the world who had caused Jaime as much trouble as Lisa Galloway, and she could hardly stand to look at her. In fact after the last escapade, Jaime had avoided mirrors for a month, because ironically, her own reflection reminded her too much of Lisa. She couldn't even imagine how Oscar was going to react to her the next time he saw her.

"You are the only person in the entire world who could have pulled a thing like that off."

"Well, that was shootin' fish in a barrel, honey." Lisa replied, warming a little.

"You know, I'm dying of curiosity. Tell me, please?" Jaime sat down across from her double, and leaned forward with the conspiratorial air of someone awaiting really good gossip.

"I don't know if I should be talking to you."

"Oh, come on. We've known each other a long time – and you're not telling me anything we don't already know. Just the juicy details."

"Well, Jaime," Lisa uncoiled in her chair, her expression superior, "I guess you never noticed, but the first time I ever talked to that man I knew he was crazy about you. But then again I am especially observant."

"Like nobody else."

"'Course I expected him to put up a little bit more resistance," she continued, "but he just fell like a ton of bricks. I expect he's feelin' a li'l bit silly right now." Her smile turned cold and self satisfied. "Maybe in future he'll think twice about bein' so mean."

"Yeah, he really wanted to put you away for good, didn't he?" Jaime agreed.

"He sure did." Her eyes blazed with indignation. "If it wasn't for you, I'd still be rotting in that cell. He doesn't know what it's like."

"Was prison hard on you?" Jaime asked softly, willing herself to look sympathetic.

"It's not even fit for a pig, much less a sensitive human being."

"You've been through so much. I think you're very brave."

Lisa tilted her head and looked down for a moment, contemplating her own courage.

"Have you got a cigarette?" she asked suddenly. "Ever since I've been smoochin' with Goldfink I've had to go cold turkey, and it's killin' me."

"No." Jaime replied, feeling a fresh jolt of revulsion at the thought of Lisa being so intimate with Oscar, **"**but I'll make sure you get some."

"So..." Lisa leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with excitement, "he's devastated, isn't he?" Jaime could hardly keep pace with the different emotions that swept over this woman minute by minute. "I've broken that little raisin of a heart of his, haven't I?"

"Yup, you've done it – he's pretty miserable." Jaime affirmed, carefully keeping her tone positive.

"Well, that's somethin', I guess." Lisa examined her fingernails and frowned. "'Course he's been sweet as honey these last two weeks. I didn't think he had it in him. Why, if I didn't hate him so much I might even have fallen for him -but then every time I started to feel a little loving, I just reminded myself that if he knew I wasn't you he'd be as mean as a snake. But I gotta tell you Sugar, he's got it _real _bad."

Jaime managed a mute nod. The world was not what it seemed only two hours earlier. She couldn't quite process it at the moment - and any hope she had that Oscar might bounce back easily was fading fast.

"You know," Lisa said with what could only be characterized as a dirty grin, "you oughta try him out sometime. He's a real nice ride."

"Please, Lisa!" Jaime raised her hands and closed her eyes to shut her out.

"Oh." she replied in mocking tone, "have I offended your delicate sensibilities?"

Jaime knew Lisa was extremely sensitive to criticism and would not take kindly to her apparent distaste at the comment. "No, no, of course not!" she answered, backpedaling as fast as she could. "He's just... really not my type, that's all."

"Is that so?" Lisa regarded her coolly, sensing she had just gained the upper hand. "I somehow think that isn't quite true."

Keenly aware of Steve on the other side of the glass, Jaime's face warmed. A change of subject was in order.

"But Lisa, you didn't go through surgery all over again just to get back at Oscar did you?"

"Heavens, no." She smiled mysteriously, crossing her arms.

"And how did you know Steve and I were going to be out of town?"

"Well let's just say that everyone seems to underestimate li'l ol' Lisa. You can learn all kinds of interesting things with a phone tap."

_What a parasit_e_…_ Jaime thought, digging her fingernails into her palm and trying not to imagine what Lisa might have heard over her telephone line.

"What I want to know," Lisa continued, "is why you came home early and spoiled everything?"

"Bad weather." Jaime replied. "Lisa, you've got to tell me what you were up to."

Lisa regarded her coolly. "I'm tired Jaime. I don't think I want to talk anymore tonight. Y'all come and visit me again tomorrow and maybe I'll feel more like it. And y'all will get me those cigarettes, won't you Sugar?"

When Jaime exited the interview room she found Russ talking with Steve. Though she had managed to maintain an appearance of calm while with Lisa, she was rattled to the core, and more notably at this moment, she was furious. There was nothing more bizarre and hateful than having some opportunistic maniac come and stir a bunch of ugly ingredients into your life when you weren't looking.

"This time can we send her to Antarctica?! Maybe put her out on an ice flow?"

Russ nodded sympathetically. "I'll get the paperwork going."

"She's really something." Steve agreed. "Sweetheart, are you okay? You seem pretty tense."

"Oh, I'm just so angry, Steve." Jaime replied, running her hand through her hair. "This is just horrible. And it's the_ third time_. How's Oscar? Is he okay?" Jaime turned to Russ, her anxiety rising as she spoke the words. This was the worst part - to have Lisa come so close to destroying a dear friend in her name made her absolutely livid.

Russ raised his eyebrows, trying to look unconcerned, but stumbled over his words. "Well, he's a little...he...ah...he's with Rudy and Louise, so that's... good."

Oh God." she sighed, pressing her hands to her face.

Steve put his arm around her.

"Come on sweetheart, it's not your fault." he soothed. "Now there's nothing more we can do tonight. You've made a good start and we need to let her stew for a bit. How about we get some dinner? I could hear your stomach growling all through that interview, and I don't even have a bionic ear."

She managed a half smile, grateful for a little levity.

"I'm afraid you two should avoid being seen together until we get this situation solved. It's quite possible Jaime is being watched." Russ said.

"Oh, sure. Don't worry Russ, we're trained professionals - we'll be discreet. Might have to order in." He winked at Jaime.

"Are you prepared to climb the drainpipe?" she queried.

"Always." Steve began to steer them in the direction of the door, when Jaime halted suddenly and turned back.

"Russ, how are your haircutting skills?"

"I - I don't have any." he stammered, taken aback.

"Good. Maybe you and Bub there" she gestured to the guard, "could go and give Miss Galloway a haircut. I don't like having an evil twin. Then I can come in tomorrow morning and be just _horrified_ on her behalf."

Russ nodded approvingly. "Good idea, Jaime. I just hope I survive it."

"She _is_ going away for good this time, right?"

"Oh yeah - we'll see to it." Russ fiddled nervously with the pen in his breast pocket. "Listen, I know this is no fun for you, and I really appreciate your help - and I know Oscar does too."


	4. Chapter 4

At 7:05, Louise Wells tied her robe, yawned widely, and descended the staircase, aware that the couch was occupied by a very old, very dear, and very distressed friend. She was not part of the tight knit OSI crowd, not because she wasn't supportive or interested in Rudy's work, but rather because she had her own interesting and time consuming career. A psychologist for the last two decades, she was now becoming renowned for her research into the underpinnings of manic-depression. Two years ago she had published a paper that had garnered a huge amount of attention, and now she was swimming in research money and opportunities.

Even though she hardly ever crossed the threshold of the OSI offices, Oscar Goldman was someone she saw often, and had done so for over twenty years. He was her husband's closest friend, and the three of them had shared many meals together and sat up countless nights discussing all manner of things. Rudy had come to bed very late last night, and woke her to talk about Oscar. He was worried. He had managed to elicit a promise from Oscar that he would do nothing rash, but had nonetheless had given him a light sedative and then gotten up twice to make sure he was safely asleep on the couch.

She quietly peered into the living room and saw that he was awake, slumped forward, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing, his shirt wrinkled, his hair disheveled, his face a mask of misery.

"Good morning...?" she said tentatively.

"Morning, Louise." he replied, barely turning to her.

She walked into the room, sat down beside him and put her arm around his shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, Oscar." she said quietly.

"Thanks." he replied, his voice thick with exhaustion, despair, and too much scotch with Rudy.

"Feeling a little rough this morning, I guess."

He nodded. "What a mess." he sighed, pressing his fingers into his eyes. "I'm such an idiot."

"You are no such thing. What you are is the victim of a crime, and you mustn't blame yourself."

"Should've known better."

"Oh Oscar," Louise protested, "you're just a _human being_ – a human being who needs love like any other. If it's any comfort, she sounds like a classic sociopath - and a clever and perceptive one at that. People like her spend all their time trolling for other peoples' weaknesses - and unfortunately for you, she found yours."

"She sure did." His eyes were dull and he was completely listless, as though it required far too much energy to move.

"Now listen, I won't have you beating yourself up, do you hear me?" Louise knew she was talking too much, that he was in no shape for a lecture, but she couldn't help it. She knew full well he would be merciless with himself. "You're a good and dear man and you did nothing to deserve this."

He only shook his head in response.

Hey," Louise said, squeezing his shoulder, "you'll get through this. You will."

"I don't think so. I think my career is finished. And how can I ever face..." he covered his eyes with his hand, "...Jaime...?"

"Easy now. Take it inch by inch."

"Oh Louise, I'm screwed. What about Steve? What must he think of me?"

"Don't take it all on at once, Oscar. Rudy tells me Jaime is finding out just how serious the security problem is. Deal with that first."

"I can't …face it. I can't face any of this. I just want to be asleep, or unconscious... or... something."

"Well, I don't think you should go in there today. Why don't you come to my lab with me? I'll try to keep you distracted. And if you just want to sit there and stare at the wall, you can do that too. You don't have to face anything today."

"Yeah, maybe that would be good." he replied dully. Suddenly he turned to her, his eyes haunted. "I'm alone again." he finally said. "I was happy – really _happy_."

"I know. I know." She murmured sadly, hugging him a little tighter. "I realize it's not much consolation right now, but we're always here for you. You're never alone. We're going to get you through this, old chum. I promise. It might take a while, but we'll get all those little tiny pieces of your heart glued back together. You'll see."

He nodded and attempted a smile, though Louise could see the despair and shame right through it.

--

That morning in the interview room Jaime found Lisa in a state of high distress, sporting a terrible shaggy haircut.

"Oh my goodness!" Jaime cried, entering the room, "Lisa honey, what did they do to you?"

"Jaime, they cut my hair." she wailed. "Last night after you left. They told me it was so I wouldn't be mistaken for you - and one of them actually _sat_ on me! And worst of all," her voice rose upward and wavered "they did a terrible job!"

Jaime hugged Lisa as she wept, clucking sympathetically.

"Have you eaten?" Jaime asked solicitously. "Can I get you something? Some coffee?"

"Poached egg would be real nice." Lisa replied between sobs. "Some coffee."

"Okay. I'll go arrange that. You just sit quietly. It's going to be okay. Hair grows."

"My hair grows..." another sob was coming, "real slow!"

Twenty minutes later Jaime returned to the interview room with the requested egg and coffee, as well as juice and a cinnamon roll. Lisa had recovered her composure and received the food gratefully.

"Now Lisa, you've got to help me out here if I'm to help you. You know, I think of you as my shadow sister, and I don't want to see you rotting in jail for the rest of your life."

"For a sister you sure ain't too good about stayin' in touch." replied Lisa, her mouth full of cinnamon roll.

"Well, that's true. I'm sorry." Jaime looked chagrined. "But I did help you, didn't I? And I will help you again - but if you don't give me everything you've got - I can't. And you're going to need help. If you think Oscar was going to throw the book at you last time, this time he's liable to hurl the entire library at you."

"Well it seems to me he might have a little explainin' to do himself." Lisa replied, suddenly looking buoyed and sassy. "His reputation is gonna take a beating! Maybe you better tell him to forget about the whole thing and let me go - with a nice little monetary gift as gratitude for my discretion."

Every minute she spent with Lisa deepened Jaime's revulsion toward her. There was an unpleasant lesson in all this. Jaime had always placed a high value on compassion, believing that people would respond positively if they were understood and treated with kindness. Unfortunately, Lisa was living proof that this was not always true.

"Lisa," she said patiently. "Oscar is a very powerful man with lots of friends. He can bury you - just like that." She snapped her fingers. "And he will, believe me."

Though Lisa was bright and resourceful, she was clearly not very good at calculating the consequences of her actions.

"Well, maybe I took one or two 'top secret' things from his briefcase," she said defiantly, her chin lifted. " and maybe that's gonna get him in a whole lot of trouble. What about that?"

"He'll bury you, Lisa."

She bit her index fingernail and frowned. "Oh..." she murmured unhappily, shifting in her chair, "well... all right then."

"Great." Jaime beamed at her. "That's great. We're going to get you through this. Now, tell me – what classified information did you take from his briefcase, or anywhere else?"

Lisa waved her hand dismissively. "Well - none – if you want the honest truth. Not that I didn't snoop. But I tell you Jaime, that man would hide his grocery list from his own mother. I had bigger fish to fry anyhow."

"Oh...?"

"You know, I always felt Courtney held me back." Lisa added, a look of intense pride animating her face. She leaned slightly towards Jaime, her eyes shining. "I had a plan - a plan that was gonna make me a millionaire - and I would have been set for life." She looked up to the ceiling, and when she looked to Jaime again she was crestfallen. "And now it's all ruined. I was finally gonna have anything I wanted, a house in the Bahamas, a nice car, a maid..." She sighed, and her face contorted slightly, tears rising in her eyes. "You've got to keep me out of jail, Jaime. I can't go back there anymore."

"I know, Lisa, but you have to tell me..."

Lisa sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. A small smile played on her lips even as tears welled in her eyes. "Well, I found me a real good buyer - who was gonna pay me two million..." Her smile widened as she hesitated, seeking dramatic effect.

"Two million for what?" Jaime asked, her stomach knotting.

"Why, for Oscar Goldman, of course."


	5. Chapter 5

After Jaime had gleaned all she could from the interview and Russ had called Oscar with the latest, he ordered lunch from an Italian restaurant and he, Jaime, Steve, and Rudy retired to a meeting room to eat and discuss the next step.

In fact, her double had been most cooperative, but Jaime was entirely unmoved. As she pulled the styrofoam cartons from the bag and handed them to their respective owners, she found herself wondering if Lisa could be stowed in the cargo bay of a space probe and shot off to Pluto.

"How are we going to get him to do this?" Russ pondered. "I can't even get him to respond to simple yes or no questions."

"It's going to have to be you, Jaime." Rudy said, studying her with serious brown eyes. "I think you're the only one who can get through to him. Unfortunately, you're also the last person in the world he wants to see."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that." Jaime replied sadly. "I can try..."

Rudy tipped a packet of salt over his Penne Arabiatta. "Tell you what - why don't you come by the office tonight at nine-thirty – if you just slip in as I slip out, that's probably the best way. I know it's going to be hard on both of you... but..."

Steve exhaled loudly and dropped his fork on the table, causing all eyes to turn to him.

"So not only does Jaime have to go in and cajole Oscar - who from the sounds of it is completely out of it - but then she has to convince him that the two of them - alone - should go out and hunt down whoever it is who wants to buy him." He angrily surveyed his lunch companions, saving his blackest looks for Rudy and Russ. "And we have no idea who they are, how many of them there are, and how heavily armed they might be. I'm sorry, but this is ridiculous." He looked hard at Jaime, half pleading and half demanding. "You can't do this!"

"Steve," she responded quietly, placing her hand on his arm. "I'm a big girl. This is something I need to do for Oscar. Guys," she said, turning to the two other men, "I'm a big girl, aren't I?"

"She's a big girl, Steve." Rudy affirmed gently. "I know you're worried, but you've got to have faith."

"She's a fine agent." Russ added.

Steve frowned. "Well I know that, but couldn't I come along? As crew or something?"

"No." Jaime replied, firmly. "They'd know who you were. I'm sorry Steve, but this is the way it has to be."

"I don't like it." he grumbled, looking away.

"It's going to be okay." Jaime said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly.

"So - we're set. Nine-thirty tonight then?" Russ confirmed.

Jaime nodded and looked at her salad. She just wasn't hungry. "Listen... has he...has Oscar got someone with him all the time?" Though she feared the answer, she couldn't stop herself from asking.

Russ nodded slowly. "Yeah. Pretty much."

"You're guarding him from … from himself, aren't you? " That high wavering tone was entering her voice. It always gave her away.

"Jaime honey, don't take this on." Rudy said. "It's not your responsibility, and you're doing more than enough. You let Russ and me worry about Oscar, okay?"

"If it's not my responsibility, whose is it?" Jaime threw her arms up in frustration. "It's my relationship with Oscar that Lisa used to cut him to ribbons! It's my relationship with Oscar that has been totally decimated! He's one of my dearest friends and I'll be lucky if he can ever bear to look at me again! How can I not feel responsible? For God's sake, I'm worried _sick_ about him!"

"Of course Jaime, I'm sorry. You're right." Rudy's dark eyes were filled with concern, and Jaime immediately regretted her outburst.

"No, I'm sorry, Rudy. It's not you – I didn't mean to lash out at you." She smiled apologetically. "Of all people."

Glancing to Steve, Jaime caught an expression of discomfort that he quickly tried to cover with a smile. He was still somewhat insecure about her affections, and her outburst couldn't have helped matters. She took his hand, hoping that would be enough to set things right.

"Who's with him right now?" Jaime finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them.

"Louise." Rudy answered.

"You had to bring in a specialist?!"

"A specialist in Oscar wrangling, yes." Rudy grinned.

--

Louise leaned out of the car window to speak into the intercom.

"Bacon burger with cheese, a large fries and a root beer." She turned back to Oscar, who was sitting beside her wearing a black expression. "Just a cheeseburger - that's all you want?"

"Yeah."

"And a cheeseburger." she bellowed, leaning as far out the window as she could. "You'd better not be starving yourself." she said, settling back into the car. "Now, what's the latest?"

"Russ says she didn't find anything to sell." Oscar replied, gazing at the line of cars in front of them through glazed eyes.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" Louise asked, her face lighting. "That's great, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's good." He replied without any hint of enthusiasm.

"Oh, Oscar, I'm so relieved." she sighed. "That's one disaster averted… isn't it?"

"Oh, there's always another right behind. Lisa apparently had a buyer for me."

Louise's face contorted in momentary confusion. "For you? Oh my god - she was going to sell _you_?" He nodded. "Oh dear. What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know." he replied irritably. "I can't really think about it. I don't really care. Anyway, there's always someone out there who wants to pry my head open."

"I'm sorry you have to live that way." she murmured, inching the car forward toward the pick up window.

"Yeah, well..." he trailed off.

"Have you... have you seen Jaime?" she asked tentatively.

"No." He frowned and fiddled with the latch on the glove compartment, and then stared hard at the dashboard.

"Are you going to?"

"Not if I can help it."

"You're really caught between the devil and the deep blue sea on this one, aren't you?" She took his hand in hers. "I want to help you get through this Oscar – I can't even imagine what sort of turmoil you're in, honestly, but I hope we can get to a point where you can at least start to process properly." She sat silent for a moment, a look of bafflement on her face. "You know… normally when you get dumped - if that's what you could call this - part of the cure is to hate the person for a while, fixating on all their flaws and that kind of thing. You're not really even allowed to do that, are you?"

He looked almost nauseous. "It's all a little more than I can handle, Lou."

"I know, Honey." she said, letting go of his hand to root around in her purse. "It would be a little much for anybody."

"Oh, let me get it..." he protested, reaching for his wallet.

"No, no. My treat." She handed the money through the pickup window and received a warm, moist paper bag in exchange. Handing it to Oscar, she pulled out of the drive-through and back into traffic.

"Oscar, you've got to promise you'll talk to me, okay? You're going to need to talk - even if you are the world's most secretive man - actually _especially_ because you're the world's most secretive man. And whatever you say stays between us. I promise. I won't even talk to Rudy if you don't want me to."

"I'll try Lou. I don't feel much like talking." It was a gross understatement, but it was all he could manage.

"I know." she replied, pulling into the parking lot of a small park. "Two things you have to do - eat and talk. That's all I ask." They both got out of the car. "So let's do some eating, and then you'll do some talking. I don't even care what you talk about. You can tell me your new shoes pinch your feet if you want – anything - but you've got to start talking."


	6. Chapter 6

Jaime arrived at the OSI at nine-fifteen, unable to discern whether she was dreading this appointment, hopeful about it, or simply anxious to get it over with. She slipped through the outer doors to Oscar's office and waited quietly, turning anxious circles on the carpet. At nine-thirty on the dot Rudy exited through the inner door. Holding it open for her, he gave her an encouraging, anxious smile.

"Oscar?" she said quietly, as Rudy closed the door behind her.

Once again, his expression seared into her brain - horror, revulsion, fear, shame - all simultaneous. Nobody in her entire life had looked at her like that. Then he did exactly what he had done at his house – he leaped to his feet and turned his back to her.

These last few days Oscar had staggered under a crush of emotions so strong and so painful that he had become almost incapable of handling even the smallest of tasks. He was so unhinged he simply couldn't trust himself to take on the tiniest of challenges without raging or weeping or otherwise carrying on in ways that would cause everyone to think he'd lost his mind - him included. So he hung on to his dignity by shutting down, turning silent and remote. Naturally his greatest preoccupation had been Jaime, and the loss of a love that, as it turned out, he had never had. There was only one thing that was clear to him - he could not bear to see her - and now, to his utter horror - here she was.

"Oscar," she said quietly, "we need to talk."

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"I think it..."

"Go away Jaime... please." he interrupted, his voice desperate.

She wanted nothing more than to obey him and walk back out the door and avoid the whole scene, but she had to make some sort of breakthrough. She quietly walked to him and tentatively placed her hand on his back.

"Don't...please..." he snapped, recoiling from her touch.

Feeling wounded, Jaime removed herself to sit in a chair opposite his desk.

"Oscar, I don't want to torment you, but I'm afraid I'm going to sit here until you turn around and talk to me."

He shifted uneasily and folded his arms.

"Look, I've already spoken to Russ." he said finally. "He'll be handling all your assignments in the future. You won't need to have deal with me ever again."

"You shouldn't have done that." she protested gently.

"Yes I did."

"Why? I don't want - "

His frustration getting the better of him, he turned halfway toward her. "Damn it, Jaime, do I have to spell it out?! How could you have faith in my integrity after this? I have completely ruined ... overstepped... all the appropriate boundaries of my position... and...and..." He was so agitated he was stumbling over his words. "...you should be able to work... to do your job without fearing that you are going to have to...that you need to appease...some... dirty old man!"

"Oh Oscar. That is ridiculous!" She too was feeling overwrought, and her words were forceful.

"For God's sake, Jaime, just go!" he bellowed, turning back to face the wall.

"No." she replied firmly. She crossed her arms, determined to remain strong, but his revulsion to her was extremely upsetting.

It suddenly occurred to her that what she needed most was to stuff her face in a pillow and bawl her eyes out. A man she had come to count on – a friend who made her world safer and warmer - was now as hostile as her worst enemy. It was all so unfair. "I don't deserve this Oscar! I'm not Lisa." she finally blurted. "The way you look at me..."

His head dropped to his chest, and he spoke quietly. "I know you don't deserve it, and I'm sorry. Can't you understand? I can't look at you. I don't know whether to apologize to you, or kiss you, or wring your neck."

"Oscar, I know it's hard for you, but it's hard for me too." she said slowly, "I'm feeling guilty as hell about this. I've devastated you, and lost your friendship and all I did was leave town for a couple of weeks."

"I'm sorry!" he said again, sounding more angry than apologetic.

"Come on." she coaxed, her tone pleading and desperate. "Talk to me - please? We have to get through this. I can't bear it…"

His shoulders dropped as his resolve slipped, and finally he turned. He glanced at her furtively as he made his way back to his desk and sat, seemingly reduced to half his normal stature, his eyes downturned. This gain made, they sat silent for several minutes, each trying to figure out what should happen next.

"I am sorry, Jaime. I wish… this had never happened. You can just dismiss it as some kind of pathetic delusional behavior on the part of a ridiculous...middle-aged man. I can't imagine what you must think of me. I'm sure it's terribly embarrassing for you."

"Not especially." She leaned closer to him, wishing she could hold his hand or even hold him up. "Oscar," she said gently," I can only guess at what you're going through, because I'm sure it's a lot of things all at once - but I know you're feeling really exposed, and I know that's difficult for you."

He nodded, his eyes flitting over the surface of his desk, refusing to meet hers.

"But... please don't feel embarrassed with me. I love that you care for me so much. I've always thought we had something special, you and me."

"Oh Jaime..." he replied, shaking his head in agitation.

"Wait...wait...wait. Has it occurred to you that maybe I would be flattered?"

"You don't have to..."

"No, wait - " she interrupted "that's not the right word. I'm not flattered. I'm honored."

"You don't have to try to make me feel better!" he insisted. "I know what I am. There's no fool like an old fool."

"That is nonsense! And I'm not trying to make you feel better! I'm telling you the truth. You and I both know... that if circumstances were different... " She halted. Loyalty to Steve and fear of misleading Oscar stopped her. "I think it should probably be left unsaid, but…_you know_..."

His protestations had stopped. There was some tiny change in his demeanor. Was she getting through to him?

"You do know that, don't you?" she pressed.

His dark eyes lifted and met hers, and in them she could see just how much he was aching for her.

"If only that were enough..." he said quietly, looking down again.

Her heart lurched in her chest. It took her a moment to catch her breath, and when she finally did, she said, "Are we going to be okay? Please say yes. I know it might take a while, but I need your word. We're going to be okay, right?"

Oscar continued to stare at his desk, nodding slightly, as though he were gathering strength. "Yes." he said finally, though he said it only to appease her.

"Thank you." Jaime sighed and bit her lip. She so dreaded the next sentence. "You know there's something else..."

"Such as?" he asked warily.

"You were going to take Lisa sailing tomorrow?"

He flinched. "Yes."

"We've got a little job we have to do." she added gently.

"Oh - no! No!" he protested. "I can't."

"Oscar, it has to be done."

Suddenly he was angry, rising from his chair and shoving it back into the wall. "Did Russ and Rudy and whoever else send you in here?" he thundered. "'Let's get Jaime to do it...she'll get through to him. Jaime, while you're at it, make sure he doesn't kill himself, okay?' Are they all out there right now, ears pressed to the door, or are they waiting by the phone?" He was pacing the room, winding himself into a rage.

"Wait a minute!" Jaime interjected, rising to meet him. "These people care about you, Oscar Goldman, and they're trying to look after you! And part of looking after you is making sure that those who want to hurt you don't get the chance. Okay?!"

"No it's not okay!" he boomed, glaring at her. "I'm the director of this goddamned organization and I don't need my colleagues pulling strings like I'm some kind of puppet!"

Jaime folded her arms and stared at him. "They're friends, Oscar. Don't drive your friends away."

He dropped his gaze to his feet and frowned and exhaled and shifted.

"We could land us a big ugly fish tomorrow." she said, hoping to appeal to his professional interests.

His frown deepened and he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Gotta do it, Oscar." she added quietly.

He closed his eyes and shook his head with a sigh, and then he looked to her, his expression immeasurably sad. "I'll pick you up at eight."


	7. Chapter 7

Oscar picked Jaime up the next morning and they made the drive to Chesapeake Bay together. It was a long and uncomfortable two hours as far as Jaime was concerned. His eyes fixed on the road and his expression grim, Oscar was a miserable companion. She made several gentle attempts at conversation, which were met with monosyllabic answers. Finally she gave up and watched the scenery go by.

Once at the marina and out of the confined space of the car, Oscar took in some deep breaths of the salty air and his mood seemed to lift a little. As they walked down the ramp to the docks, he turned to her.

"You know when I should have figured out she wasn't you?" he asked, with the faintest glimmer of humor in his eyes.

"When?"

"When we were both reading_ The Post_ on Sunday morning. I had the Op/Ed page, and when I turned to see what she was reading..." he smiled ruefully and shook his head, "she was checking out the horse racing forms."

Jaime stifled a laugh with her hand. "I'm sorry... but that is kind of funny."

"It is, isn't it?" He actually managed to crack a half grin. They walked down the dock, which bobbed gently on the water, accompanied by the sound of rigging rattling against metal masts. Toward the end of the main walkway they turned left, arriving at a handsome twenty-five foot wooden sailboat.

"That's mine." he said, pointing to it.

"It's beautiful, Oscar." she said, as they stepped aboard. "What's it called?"

"She's _the Delmar_. She'll be seventy three years old this year."

"Did you choose the name?"

He shook his head. "You don't change the name of ships - not in my books, anyway."

"It means 'from the sea', doesn't it?"

"Yeah – but it's probably really some guy's late lamented girlfriend."

"Wow." Jaime replied, admiring the sparkling brass fittings and running her hands on the burnished teak. "How do you find time to keep it in such beautiful shape?"

"I don't." he answered as he unwound the lines from dock cleats. "I get a local kid to work on it for me most of the time."

"I didn't even know you liked to sail."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me." he replied, as he always did when she discovered something new about him. "...though you certainly know more than I ever intended you to." he added under his breath.

They made their way out of the marina by means of a small outboard motor. Jaime scanned around her, looking for the vessel that was most likely to intercept them. There were a couple of sailboats out in the bay, and a speedboat blasted by and quickly disappeared from view.

"I don't see any likely candidates for our rendezvous yet." Jaime murmured. Oscar took a perfunctory look around as he pulled the motor out of the water and began to hoist the sails.

"Come on over here." he beckoned. "I'm going to put you to work." He gave her a short demonstration of her duties as an able seaman before settling down at the tiller. Jaime had sailed a few times in her life, but had never exactly grasped the principles, so she just did what she was told.

It was such a contradictory pastime, she thought - supposedly all serene and quiet, but then much of it seemed to be spent frantically hitching and unhitching ropes as sails flapped wildly and she crouched in the bottom of the hull trying to avoid being hit by the boom. Oscar sat at the tiller and gave orders. At work or at play, he was very good at being the boss. Finally they were truly underway. Now it was quiet; the sails were trimmed and they moved swiftly through the dark blue waters.

Once again she scanned the horizon. There were not many boats on the water today, but now, separating itself from the haze of the opposite shore, was a white blob that in a short time showed itself to be a large, gleaming yacht.

"Look at that." Jaime said quietly, gesturing toward it with her chin.

Oscar glanced toward it. "Yeah..."

For fifteen minutes they quietly sailed out into open waters, the land receding behind them. It was a beautiful day, no question. There were perfect white puffy clouds dotting the skies, and the wind was steady but not violent. Under other circumstances it would have been a very pleasant occasion. All the while they were both keenly aware of a big white yacht on their aft starboard side – far enough away to look disinterested, but close enough to move in on them anytime the occupants wanted.

"Okay," Oscar sighed. "we'd better keep up appearances." He shifted back and beckoned her to him. Feeling self conscious, she sat in front of him and he wrapped his long legs around her, slipped his arm around her waist and placed his cheek lightly against hers. For all the intimacy of his actions, she could tell he was tense too.

"You're going to play it safe in there, okay?" he said quietly. "If you don't find exactly the right moment to bust this thing open, don't do it. Even if they slice, dice and julienne me in front of your eyes, don't let it get to you. If worse comes to worst, they can have one of us, but not both of us."

"Don't let it get to me? You must think I'm a lot tougher than I am." Jaime scoffed. "We're going to make sure that doesn't happen. And you know, if it did... it's a lot less painful for me to be sliced and diced than you."

"That's not the point. Your bionics don't lie. I can lie."

"Well it's not going to happen." she repeated firmly. "What is this slice-dice-julienne thing anyway? Have you been sitting up all night watching TV?"

"It might happen. You should think of this as a golden opportunity to get yourself a new boss."

"Don't even say that!" Jaime turned on him angrily.

"Okay, okay. Shhh." he said quickly. "I'm sorry."

"You really scare me when you say things like that." she insisted, glaring at him.

"Just a little gallows humor, that's all. Don't take it so seriously."

"Well it's not funny." she grumbled. She was struck by how quickly he had moved from remote and bad tempered to soothing and conciliatory - she did have a lot of power over him, she realized, and it was something she would have to be careful with.

"I won't do it again. Come on now. We can't look like we're having a fight. Tell me a joke."

Jaime sighed.

"I'm sorry." he said again, and kissed her cheek. The kiss was so natural, so tender, that it gave Jaime insight into how he must have been with Lisa – with her - and it made her feel sad all over again. Somehow that sweet, small gesture erased any question left in her mind about the depth of his feelings for her.

"You are a good liar, aren't you?" she said quietly.

"Mmm-hmm. And I hate being found out."

"Well," she said, leaning back into him, "did you know that Davy Crockett had three ears?"

"Why, no I didn't." Oscar replied gamely.

"Yup. His left ear, his right ear and his wild front ear."

To her surprise he laughed, loud enough to startle her, and it made her laugh too.

"Good one. Where did you get that one?"

"Oh, just take a guess. All my jokes come from my students."

"How about another one?"

The yacht was drawing closer, close enough that Jaime could hear the sound of guns being cocked, of nervous muttering on deck.

"We might not get to the punchline." she said, looking out of the corner of her eye.

"Then you can tell me later."

"Okay, why did the pilgrim's pants fall down?"

"Why _did_ the pilgrim's pants fall down?" he asked cheerfully.

"Oscar Goldman - " a voice crackled out from a megaphone. "bring your vessel to a halt immediately."

Oscar looked up at the yacht as though it were the first time he'd noticed it.

"What do you want?" he yelled.

"One more question and we'll shoot the young lady."

Obediently and quietly they took down the sails, tied up to the back of the yacht and mounted the ladder up to the deck.

The man with the megaphone was a tiny, wizened character, with a mirthless grin, dark eyes, and crowded teeth that pointed slightly inward. He wore an immaculate white suit that matched the yacht. Surrounding him were three silent, glowering men with big muscles and big guns, one of whom handcuffed Oscar, while another grabbed Jaime unceremoniously and pushed a gun to her temple. She winced and pulled back, protesting as the cold metal pressed into her flesh.

"Jaime!" Oscar barked anxiously. "Don't resist - please."

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Goldman, Miss Sommers." the man in the white suit said. "You may call me Mr. White."

Oscar and Jaime glanced at each other - both realizing at the same moment that neither of them knew whether White believed her to be Lisa Galloway or Jaime Sommers.

"Hank," Mr. White turned to the last large muscular man who was not otherwise occupied. "Go capsize that boat. I'm sorry, Mr. Goldman - but it's necessary. We need your people to believe you had an unfortunate accident."

Oscar frowned unhappily as he looked back to his beautiful boat tethered at the stern.

"Let Jaime go." he said, turning back to White. "I'll cooperate if you let her go."

"Very gentlemanly, I'm sure," smiled the tiny man, "but I think we'll keep her around as an incentive for you to behave like a good boy. Now, let's go down below." He lead the way while the two henchmen prodded their prisoners down the narrow stairs. "I'm afraid we don't have much time for niceties. I've got a lot of people waiting on me."

They descended into a plain room lit by greenish fluorescent ceiling lights. Suddenly instead of being on a luxurious yacht, it was like they were in somebody's creepy basement. Jaime felt sweat bead on her temples when she saw the big plastic sheet on the floor with a single metal chair placed in the middle. Beside the chair stood a sinewy man holding some kind of baton attached by a cord to an electrical box. On a counter that ran along the side of the room were other items, less high tech but still ominous – a hammer, a crowbar, several pairs of pliers, a saw, and a bottle of bleach.

"Have a seat, Mr. Goldman." the man with the baton said, smiling coldly and patting the chair. Oscar hesitated, and his guard immediately punched him in the head and pushed him forward, jamming the butt of his gun into the center of his back. Jaime clenched her teeth to suppress a gasp. Staggering slightly Oscar crossed to the chair and sat, silent and wary.

"Now, Oscar," White said, pacing in front of him, "I know you won't mind if I call you Oscar... I'm sure you can imagine why you're here. There are just so many things rattling around in that head of yours that we'd like to know about. We have quite a list, in fact - the access code for the Fairbanks Missile Project, the names of all the negotiators working on the Nuclear Deactivation Plan... the security details on the upcoming Middle East talks - and a few other things. But we'll get to all that in due time. You can start with the sequence of six codes for the MacIntyre project. I know you've memorized them, and I want them. And don't even think about lying - because we'll know - faster than you can imagine. We've got a big network out there, Oscar, all hanging on your every word. Isn't that flattering?"

The subject looked at the floor in front of him and said nothing.

"Come on Oscar. It's all over. You know it's all over." White prompted, squatting in front of him to catch his eye. "You give us what we want, and we'll dispense with you quickly and painlessly. No humiliation. Otherwise it's going to be very unpleasant. I don't need to tell you about torture, I'm sure. Mark is very good - he can reduce a big strong man to a quivering, sniveling pulp in no time. It's very degrading really - and you don't want your sweet Jaime to see that, do you?" Oscar was so still and so unresponsive it was almost as though he hadn't heard.

Jaime's breath was short and her heart was wild. She was keenly aware of the guard's sweaty grip on her arm and the gun muzzle at her head. It was far too risky, but she longed to heave him across the room – to knock all these creeps down like so many bowling pins and get Oscar the hell out of here – away from the plastic sheet and the pliers and the threat of - she never should have asked him to do to this – to put him in danger like this. On top of everything else… this was too cruel.

"And then," White added, in a regretful tone, "if you don't cooperate, we'll have to work on her, and that would be such a shame. Such an attractive woman." he said wistfully, gazing at Jaime. "In fact it might be more productive to start with her..."

Oscar's eyes flicked anxiously to Jaime as the man holding her jammed the gun harder into her temple.

"Ow!" she cried indignantly, in her best southern accent. "Now looky here, Mr. White, I've had just about enough of this. I agreed to deliver Goldman, not to get into some crazy improvisational comedy routine!"

"What?" Oscar gasped, looking shocked and horrified. All he had to do to be convincing was relive the most painful memory of his life, now only three days old.

"Lisa Galloway...?!"

"That's right Sugar." Jaime smiled unpleasantly. "Surprise!"

His head dropped to his chest. "Oh God..." he whispered.

"For Chrissakes Lisa!" White spun around. "Couldn't you keep your mouth shut for another minute?!"

"Not with this jerk jamming a gun into my head!" Jaime responded with equal ire. "Now I would like you to pay me my money and put me ashore. I've got better things to do than stand here watching you carve him up!"

"I thought you wanted to watch us carve him up." White hissed, his eyes narrowed.

"Well I have changed my mind!" Jaime replied hotly. "It looks like it's gonna be messy. And I could be getting a massage and drinking a cocktail instead."

White glared at her a moment longer, then his expression shifted back into something tolerant and civil. "Let's go up on deck, Lisa, and discuss this further."

"Fine." Jaime replied. She went straight up the stairs without a backward glance, though it made her sick to her stomach to leave Oscar alone and undefended.

"Mark, see if you can reason with him while I talk to Lisa." White called back to the man with the baton.

"Now, Sugar, let's have it." Jaime said, turning and holding out her palm as they stepped up onto the deck.

"One million." countered White.

"Oh no... it's _Gold_man - not Silverman. I want my two million. That's what we agreed on."

"You compromised our interrogation by giving yourself away."

"Two million." Jaime insisted.

She didn't see the man come up behind her, nor did she hear him over the yacht engine. He lifted her cleanly off her feet and she was suddenly airborne, the sky and water and yacht tumbling around her as she dropped into the cold blue water, screaming.

Oscar was trying hard not to listen to the torments Mark was describing to him when Mr. White returned from above - alone. His heart rate instantly doubled.

"Where is she?" he said, his voice as flat as possible.

"She went for a little dip." White replied, his black eyes glinting with amusement.

"Good riddance." Oscar said, nearly choking on the words, as he returned his gaze to the floor.

"Now then, back to business. The codes please."

"White, or whatever your name is, this is going to be the last thing I say to you. Torture doesn't work. And I don't really give a damn what you do to me."

"Oh dear. Lost your will to live, have you? Well I'll be more than happy to put a bullet through your head if you'll only give me what I want - you poor, pathetic schmuck. Pity that such a fine career should come to such an ignominious end." White stood over Oscar, shaking his head in disapproval. "I always thought you'd be too smart to get caught out by a woman." He smiled. "Well now, Mark has an interesting new toy he's eager to try on you. Four thousand volts. That ought to make you regret being alive!"

Mark walked around to face Oscar, holding the baton in front of him. He gave him a wolfish grin and flicked the switch, creating a glow and a low hum. Oscar couldn't help but recoil as it was held near his face, then over his neck and chest. The mere proximity of it raised goosebumps on his flesh and caused a shiver to run down his back.

"Care to reconsider?" Mr White asked.

Oscar stared harder at the floor and tensed as the baton was placed against his neck.


	8. Chapter 8

The water was like cement when she smacked into it, the impact jolting her head and back, and then it enveloped her and she sank. Still stunned by the pain, she kicked swiftly, catching up with the yacht in a matter of moments. Using her bionic strength, she resisted the pull of the propellers churning beside her, eased herself close to the hull and grasped the ladder that extended down from the deck, clinging tight for a few anxious minutes before slowly climbing upward and peeking up and over.

It looked as though White had gone back below. Straight down the deck, about twenty feet away, was a single guard, facing forward - the only person she could see from her limited vantage point.

As swiftly and quietly as she could, she hoisted herself onto the deck and took cover behind the back of the cabin, grabbing an orange and white striped life preserver from the railing as she ran. She paused a moment to collect herself and then stepped around the corner, winging the life preserver like a frisbee.

Her aim was perfect, and it slammed into the back of the guard so hard he sailed forward several feet before he landed - knocked unconscious. On tiptoe Jaime ran up the deck, took his semi-automatic rifle from him, as well as a pistol and handcuffs from his pockets, then dragged him to a nearby storage locker, stuffed him in and bolted it shut.

Lightly leaping up to the roof of the cabin, she hunched down and tiptoed to the opposite side. The other guard was right there below her, unaware of her presence. Jaime momentarily considered chucking him overboard as an act of petty revenge, but decided against it, and instead she jumped down on him, giving him a generous crack on the head with her elbow as she landed. Gratifyingly, the big man dropped like a rock. She relieved him of his weapons, which she threw into the water, and then once again she set to the task of stuffing a large man into a small closet. Now bristling with weaponry, she ran back to the stern and paused at the top of the stairs, wiping her wet hair from her eyes and collecting her breath.

She stuffed the pistol into her belt and grasped the semi-automatic with authority. As much as she hated guns, she was going to need them. Terrified of what she might find down there and worried that it was worsening with each passing minute, she took the stairs in two bounds and burst through the door. White, the torture specialist Mark, and the two giant body guards stopped in their tracks and stared. She must have been a sight - soaking wet, breathless, fully armed and mad as hell. Oscar seemed not to have heard her - he was slumped forward in the chair, gasping and shaking.

With a dangerous glint in her eye Jaime aimed the gun at White's head. Employing the accent, she hissed through clenched teeth, "Everyone thinks they can screw with Lisa Galloway... and I'm finally gonna set y'all straight." There was no need to feign the anger - it came so easily.

White was paralyzed by disbelief, his arms hanging limp at his sides and his mouth open.

"Get over into that corner, there." Jaime screamed at the top of her lungs, gesturing at the back corner of the room. "All of you!"

"Lisa..." White wheedled as he backed up.

"Now!" Jaime fired a shot through the ceiling and the four men jumped and ran to the corner.

Jaime, keeping her aim firmly on her three adversaries, turned her attention to Oscar. He seemed to have missed much of the drama, still shaking, his head bowed.

"Oscar..." she called. "Oscar!" Still no response. She switched back to her own accent. "Oscar!"

At that he lifted his head and looked at her through eyes glazed with pain.

"Can you stand up?"

He nodded and uncertainly rose to his feet, swayed, and began to move toward the corner with the others.

"No, Oscar, here - come here." she said in the sort of tone you use with a frightened animal. He stopped, blinked uncertainly, changed course and came and stood beside her.

_One mistake and they'll be on top of us_, she thought. "Now y'all make sure you don't budge an inch. My daddy and me sent a lot of squirrels to their final reward when I was growin' up, and y'all make a lot bigger targets."

Still holding the gun in her left, she reached around Oscar with her right hand and pinched open a link of chain on the handcuffs.

"Take that gun from my belt." she said to him firmly. Though he was still shaking badly, his breathing had settled and he was looking a little clearer. "Good. Are you strong enough? Could you shoot one of them if you had to?"

He tried to speak, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat, aimed the gun with a relatively steady hand, and in a surprisingly strong voice, replied, "With pleasure."

"Lisa." White called. "You don't want to put your eggs in that basket - he'll put you away! Don't forget you just sold him to me!"

"Tried to sell him, you mean." Jaime corrected, reverting once and for all to her own accent. "White - come here." The little man looked distinctly reluctant. "Now!" she bellowed. Placing her semi-automatic on the counter, she took the pair of handcuffs she had removed from the guard and beckoned White to a pillar on the side of the room, and handcuffed him around it.

The torturer and the two guards she dispensed with quickly, using her bionic speed to bind their hands and feet with rope - just tight enough to compromise their circulation slightly. She knew it wasn't very high minded of her to take these small revenges, but it was so satisfying!

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, returning to Oscar's side.

"Yes." he said, lowering the gun. "Are you okay?" To Jaime's immense relief he now seemed almost recovered.

"Nothing but soggy." she smiled, picking up the semi-automatic.

He shook his head at her with a disapproving expression.

"What?" she asked, afraid she had done something wrong.

"Huntin' squirrels, huh?"

They had both forgotten about the bridge. There was one more man - the Captain - who, up in the wheel house, had heard the shot from below. As a minor partner in this venture he had a lot to lose, and he didn't intend to let it go easily. He waited for a moment, and when he didn't receive an 'all clear' call, he began to fear the worst. He crept quietly down the stairs and surveyed the situation.

The moment Oscar and Jaime looked relaxed, he burst through the door. Grabbing Jaime's gun he pushed her hard into the counter on her left, winding her completely. She dropped to the floor, holding her stomach. He thought Oscar would be easy to deal with - after all he was weakened - but he was unprepared for the tornado of rage that hit him. He had barely dispensed with the woman when the fist connected with his jaw, sending him reeling backwards into the wall. Then Oscar was on him, punching him over and over again till he dropped to the floor, his face bloodied, his nose mashed. Even then Oscar didn't stop, pounding the semi-conscious man in a blinded fury.

Jaime couldn't believe her eyes. Oscar had snapped completely - in fact if she didn't interfere he might even kill the guy. She leaped up and grabbed him from behind, restraining him in a tight embrace. "Oscar - enough!" He resisted, his body hard with rage. "Enough." she repeated gently. "Come on now." Suddenly he gave in. His body relaxed in her arms and his head dropped. Jaime held him until she felt him return to himself, and would have held him longer if it would have made him feel better - she so wanted to make him feel better - but she knew she couldn't. She let him go.

One call on the radio produced a swarm of boats from all directions in less than two minutes. Jaime felt she could finally breathe freely again - the cavalry had arrived. She stood on the deck with Oscar and Russ, a blanket thrown around her by a thoughtful OSI man, enjoying the fresh air in the way you do after having a life threatening experience.

"The doc is going to want to take a look at you, Oscar." Russ looked cautiously elated. White, it was quickly discovered, was actually one Archie FitzGibbon, an infamous racketeer who had made a fortune selling state secrets.

"Yeah." Oscar replied. The day had clearly taken a lot out of him. His eyes were clouded and his face was deeply etched by exhaustion. "I'm okay - I'm just suddenly really tired."

"Still..." Russ insisted cautiously.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." he frowned.

Maybe it was foolish, but Jaime hoped that she still might have some power to cheer him. It had only been a couple of days, but she already missed his laugh and the amiable companionship that had characterized their relationship. Surely it wasn't all a thing of the past? There had been that one moment on the boat today...

"So you want to hear the punchline to that joke?"

Oscar looked perplexed and worried, as though he had forgotten something important. "What was the joke again?"

"Why did the pilgrim's pants fall down?"

"I know this one." Russ grinned. "Because he was wearing his belt buckle on his hat."

Jaime giggled, but Oscar only nodded as though he'd been told a nuclear device had been detonated over Los Angeles. He glared at Russ.

"Go find my boat, will you?"

"Sure. Of course." Russ replied, looking chastised as he turned away.

"I'm so sorry about your boat." Jaime said quietly.

"Me too."

"Maybe it will be salvageable…?"

"Mr. Goldman." interrupted a young man. "I'm from the medical team and I've got instructions to take you under my care immediately."

'I'll be with you in a second." He turned to Jaime. "Thank you." he said, in a formal tone. "You did an incredible job, as usual."

"For you - anything." she smiled.

He hesitated, almost as though her words hurt him. "I think there's somebody down there waiting for you." he said, gesturing down the deck. Jaime turned - and there was Steve leaning against the railing. A wave of relief and happiness swept over her, which she quickly covered up before she turned back to Oscar. But he was gone. She just saw him turn the corner with the medic, and she considered following him - to say some little nicety, or say goodbye, or_ something_, but it was no use. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't fix everything up for him.

"Well, well, well." Steve said, ambling toward her. "I guess you really are a superagent, aren't you?"

"Guess so." she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Are you really okay? You're kinda damp."

"Yeah. I'm fine - but I really need a hug." Steve obliged by pulling her into a tight embrace. "It was pretty intense." she added, resting her head on his shoulder. "Just hanging around Oscar was pretty intense, never mind dealing with the bad guys. I'm so glad you're here."

"Well, it gets better. I've booked us into a really nice little hotel on the water for tonight."

"You did? I believe you are an angel sent from Heaven." Jaime sighed.

"Well, if you think that you clearly don't know what I have in mind for this evening."

Jaime laughed and kissed him.


	9. Chapter 9

From Callahan's perspective it had been a very tense and mysterious three weeks in Oscar Goldman's office. The boss had not been himself at all. Sullen, monosyllabic and gray faced, he had barely ventured out of his inner sanctum. It seemed as though someone was in constant attendance - Russ, or Rudy, or even the elusive Louise Wells. It was clear that Oscar was having some serious personal crisis, and Callahan wondered how it fit with his great mood of the weeks prior to that. He had gone straight from giddy to miserable – overnight. But if he _was_ having some sort of crisis, where were close friends like Jaime? Or Steve? If she didn't know Oscar better she might have thought it was romantic trouble. However, a long time ago she had learned that to do her job properly she had to keep a lid on her naturally abundant curiosity, so she just tried to be cheerful, efficient and normal - not that anyone noticed.

Today she had knocked on Oscar's door, and when she entered he jerked his head up from the desk. The cuff of his jacket was imprinted on his forehead and his eyes were bleary. She knew right then what he needed. She called the Cosmo deli, and had them make up a roast beef sandwich, rare, with a preposterous amount of horseradish on it.

"Enough to kill the horse with." she ordered. A runner picked it up at noon, and Callahan delivered it to him half an hour later.

"What's this?" he asked, staring at the paper plate, puzzled.

"Your favorite." she said, leaving the room.

Oscar life had become a complete haze, one day running into the next, all of them the same, all of them hardly worth the effort. He had stayed with Rudy and Louise for a week, and then moved back to his own house, where he prowled around at all hours of the night, restless, miserable, and unable to help himself.

He felt the horseradish shoot up his nostrils like a thousand tiny arrows, then increase in numbers as they passed through the middle of his brain and rushed spectacularly into the back of his head. He breathed deeply, his sinuses and his mind vividly cleared – for the moment at least. Whether the tears in his eyes were due to horseradish or emotion he wasn't quite sure. But he did know this - he was lucky. Though he had been nothing but misery for almost a month, he still seemed to have a lot of people who cared for him. All this time somebody was there - Jaime, Rudy, Louise, Russ, Callahan – trying to break the momentum of his long and painful fall.

When he poked his head out of his office, Callahan was pleased to note that his complexion was flushed and vivid.

"That was fantastic, Callahan, thank you."

"You're welcome Oscar. Anytime."

"Can I take you and Lynda out to lunch tomorrow?"

"Delighted, I'm sure." she beamed.

"Would you get both Steve and Jaime on the phone for me please?"

"Right away, boss."

That night he met Steve and Jaime at his favorite Russian restaurant, where they served the best borscht in town. After a few minutes of polite and somewhat strained conversation, Oscar decided to say the words he had been mulling over all afternoon.

"I ...uh... asked you two out tonight because I owe you both an apology." He fiddled with his napkin, lining up the corners, only glancing at his two companions.

Jaime waved her hands in protest. "Oh Oscar, you don't owe me an apology!"

"Well, all right then," he said, measuring his words carefully, "I owe you my thanks. My adventures with Lisa Galloway put you in a very uncomfortable position, right between a rock and a hard place - and you have been gracious, and kind, and loyal, even while I've been rude and ill tempered. Of course it's what I've come to expect of you, but I just want you to know how grateful I am."

"Well... you're welcome." Jaime replied, smiling and feeling a little shy.

"I can't promise I'm going to be a ray of sunshine from now on, but I'm going to try. I'd just like to get back to normal."

"I'll back you up all the way." It would have been natural and normal in former times for her to hug him, or even just pat his arm, but she didn't dare. It was as though there was a force field around him.

"And Steve," he continued, "I hardly know where to begin. I betrayed our friendship, and then to add insult to injury, Jaime had to become involved in very dangerous situation on my behalf - and I apologize. I hope you'll forgive me."

Steve nodded, somewhat embarrassed by the sincerity of Oscar's apology. A small smile crossed his lips. "Well, pal. I'll let it go this time. But if I come over to your house and see so much as a photocopy of Jaime's face taped onto one of those blow up dolls of yours, it's gonna be you heading to the moon."

"Steve!" Jaime gasped in horror.

Oscar's eyes narrowed. "Oh, right," he replied. "you mean the dozen you gave me to hide from Jaime. Don't worry Steve, I'm saving them all for the next Macy's parade. There's going to be a float in your honor."

Steve's chuckled and extended his hand across the table. Oscar shook it gratefully. Jaime only sensed this interaction, as she was cringing in embarrassment, her head in her hands.

"Welcome back, boss." Steve said. "You know, you have another little personal tragedy we need to discuss…"

Both Jaime and Oscar looked at Steve with such trepidation he couldn't help but laugh.

"It's those Yankees of yours. Didn't quite make the grade, did they?"

Oscar first looked immensely relieved, and then he suppressed a smile. "Better than your Brooklyn – oh, excuse me – Los Angeles Dodgers…"

The rest of the evening was spent discussing baseball, politics, and the new souped-up dune buggy carburetor Steve had invented. Jaime didn't contribute much, but she was delighted to be out of the spotlight - and Steve had not forgotten her. Occasionally he put his hand over hers, or smiled at her.

As they rolled out of the parking lot two hours later, Jaime turned to watch Oscar unlocking his car. She couldn't shake the notion that he looked diminished, smaller, broken. She wondered just how difficult the evening had been for him. Sighing, she slouched down in her seat and threw her head back.

"You okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah." she said, though she didn't feel okay. In fact she felt emotionally bruised.

"Sorry about that blow-up doll crack. It's a little joke he and I have had for a long time."

"That's okay, baby. I saw what you were doing - and it was just the right thing - though it was disgusting."

Steve smiled with mischievous satisfaction.

"You made the evening a lot easier for all of us."

"Yeah, well I was thinking - it's not like I don't know how he feels. You know, Oscar and Rudy did a lot for me when I lost you. They took me out a lot, tried to distract me and cheer me up and stuff like that. I'm gonna to try to do that for him."

Jaime wilted a little more. "Boy, I cause a lot of trouble."

"Well, I've spent my life looking for trouble, and if you're trouble - then I'm a happy man."

"Well that's a relief anyhow." she smiled.

"Oscar is going to be okay. You'll see."

"Yeah." she said, not entirely convinced. She looked over to the man she had known for as long as she could remember, and felt a small thrill of liberation. Though it was difficult to know she was the source of a friend's unhappiness, there was nothing more she could do, so she might as well get on with her life - and her life, with this man, was looking pretty wonderful.

"The night is young, you know. How about I teach you how to play snooker?"

"Teach me?" Steve sputtered. "How about I teach you - teach you a lesson, that is?"

"You're on, buddy boy."

Oscar waited until Jaime and Steve were well out of the parking lot before he pressed his hand to his breastbone, trying to ease the pain. He was now acquainted enough with the sensation to know it was not a heart attack. It was just heartache - and it was particularly acute at this instant. He would go home and pour himself a good stiff drink. That usually helped. Then, while the numbness was still on him he would go to bed and hope he might sleep.

It would go away one of these days - Louise had promised him. One day he was going to feel okay again. He could hardly wait.


End file.
